


I Love The Way You Love Me

by akamine_chan



Category: due South
Genre: Community: ds_kinkmeme, Domination/submission, F/F, F/M, Pegging, restrained
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-24
Updated: 2010-07-24
Packaged: 2017-10-10 19:28:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/103391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/pseuds/akamine_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first thing Frannie had done had been to blindfold him and strip him out of his uniform, ordering him to his knees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Love The Way You Love Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lucifuge5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucifuge5/gifts).



> Many hugs and thanks to Exbex for a quick beta. This is all 's fault. And I guess, happy early birthday, Luce. Hope this works for you...*g* Also, Meg/Frannie/Ren totally needs a icon.
> 
> Prompt: Two dommes and a sub

The first thing Frannie had done had been to blindfold him and strip him out of his uniform, ordering him to his knees. He had been slow and ungraceful, a flush spreading across his cheeks. Delicate hands skimmed across his body and he felt the brush of something against his lips, something plastic and hard and...oh.

"Open your mouth, Turnbull," the Inspector said, and he did as he was told. Francesca used the lanyard to tie his hands behind his back, wicked knots tight enough to dig into the skin of his wrists a little. Once done, she moved close, pressing her unclothed chest to his back, the brush of her erect nipples against his skin maddening. His fingers glanced against heat and wetness and Francesca let out a tiny gasp against his ear.

Inspector Thatcher pressed forward as he inhaled, the smooth plastic of her cock sliding deep, deeper, almost too far. He concentrated on breathing, letting his mouth open and relaxing his throat. Ren couldn't see, but he could feel the insistent push of Inspector Thatcher's cock down his throat, and it felt much larger than what he was used to.

"That's it, Ren," Francesca whispered in his ear, rocking forward against his fingers. "Let her fuck your mouth. Meg really likes that, likes seeing your mouth stretched around her cock." She bit at his ear and continued to dizzy his senses with her deeply erotic words. "Get her cock nice and wet, so it'll feel good when she fucks you with it. I'm gonna watch as she bends you over the desk, fucks you hard with her cock, make you beg for it." She reached around and toyed with his nipples, scratching at them with her fingernails, twisting and turning and pulling on them. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, Ren?" He tried to speak, but with his mouth filled with Inspector Thatcher's cock, all he could do was moan and try to touch Francesca's clit with his bound hands.

"What a lovely sight he makes, don't you think, Frannie?" Inspector Thatcher's words were precise and cool, which contrasted sharply with the hot and prickly things she was making him feel.

"Oh, he's so beautiful," Francesca sighed, and Ren couldn't help but feel a moment's pride. He was pleased that they were pleased with him, but he knew that could change with the slightest bit of inattention. He tried to push past the pleasure that threatened to overwhelm his senses, focusing on what he was doing with his fingers and his mouth. He could feel Francesca's slickness, and he slid two fingers deep into her, resting his thumb on her clit. She rocked against him, her sweet, breathy moans teasing his ears. "Ohhhh." After a moment, her body tensed and shuddered and she sighed.

"Good boy. So obedient," Inspector Thatcher purred, cupping his face in her elegant hand. She pulled free of his mouth, and he felt empty. "Up on your feet, Constable."

He struggled upright, a little bit off balance, and once he gained his feet, stood at parade rest, waiting. He was sure he looked ridiculous, but it didn't seem to matter in the face of Francesca's murmured approval. He could hear Inspector Thatcher striding over to her desk, and Francesca took his hand to guide him.

He had a flash of memory, of Inspector Thatcher spending the afternoon cleaning off her desk, having Constable Fraser file the habitual piles of paperwork away. She'd called Ren in with feather duster and furniture wax and watched him clean and polish her desk with almost predatory intent, sitting in her chair with her legs elegantly crossed. She'd looked hungry, her hazel eyes sharp and piercing. He blushed and trembled at the image.

Francesca stroked a warm, lingering hand down his back before stepping away. He tilted his head, and he heard Inspector Thatcher's pleased hum as Francesca climbed onto the desk, imagining her arranging Francesca to her liking. Ren's mind conjured sensual images to go with the sounds: Inspector Thatcher sliding her fingers through Francesca's wetness, moving up to Francesca's beautifully proud breasts, circling her nipples with a wet finger, making them even more erect.

He shifted from foot to foot, tormented by the pictures in his head, and the reality he couldn't see.

Inspector Thatcher grasped his arm and carefully led him forward, bending him over the edge of the desk, pushing his head down until it rested against Francesca's heady warmth. He could feel the coarseness of her hair and her scent filled his senses. He nuzzled at her and she jolted with a gasp.

"Oh, I like this," Francesca said, her voice husky. She wiggled a little. "Lick me."

He did as he was told, using the flat of his tongue to lick Francesca, paying special attention to her little clit, circling it with the pointed tip of his tongue, swiping at it, teasing her until she burrowed her hands into his hair and _pulled_, putting his mouth where she wanted it.

Inspector Thatcher kicked his legs apart, and he groaned against Francesca's sweet flesh. He felt so exposed and open, with nowhere to hide. His hands clenched into fists behind his back, trying to keep from begging Inspector Thatcher to take him, to ride him hard with her cock and—

He gasped as Inspector Thatcher pushed in with two wet fingers; the coldness of the lubrication sent shivers down his back.

"Cold?" she asked, a hint of laughter in her voice. She was rough with him and he struggled to let her in, to open for her. She raked her nails across his buttocks before she spread him wide with her competent hands, resting the hard plastic of her large cock against the center of him before pushing forward, demanding entrance.

His groan was muffled against Francesca as he was slowly stretched wide. It was almost too much, slow and deep and full, but the sensations hovered on the knife edge of ecstasy, threatening to tip him over at any time. He held on to his control, concentrated on the feel of Francesca under his mouth, wet and sweet and hot, her tiny hands pulling hard on his hair as she guided him.

Inspector Thatcher was relentless, sliding in deep, stopping only when her hips were flush against his buttocks. He tightened around the thickness of her, shivering. She petted him soothingly, giving him a moment to adjust, stroking his back and sides, using her nails softly to raise goosebumps across his flesh. "Are you making Frannie come, Constable?"

It slowly filtered through his pleasure-muddled brain that her question required a direct response from him. He lifted his mouth off of Francesca for a moment to whisper, "I am trying to, sir."

"Good boy." She pulled out the tiniest bit and slowly rocked back in, sending a surge of electrifying pleasure running through him. And she did it again, and again, and all Ren could do was lean against Francesca, gasping helplessly.

"Don't stop licking her, Turnbull, or I'll make sure you regret it." Inspector Thatcher thrust in with her cock, her voice firm. She held his hips tightly, fingers spread as she moved back and forth, a strong rhythm that drew guttural moans from him as he twisted and sweated, feeling the fine edge of desperation rising in his blood.

His own penis—his _cock_—was painfully hard, seeking any friction that was available, but there was nothing but the chill air and the occasional brush against the desk. A persistent sound rose in his throat, a soft keening note that was escaping in spite of his best efforts to stay quiet.

Another hard thrust and something broke loose inside of him; he groaned and begged, his words instinct against Francesca's wetness as he sucked and kissed her, feeling her shake under his mouth, flooding his senses.

Francesca yanked at his hair, pulling pained tears from his eyes that were soon lost under the momentum of Inspector Thatcher's cock, rocking him against Francesca.

"Next time," Inspector Thatcher whispered, "I will tie you up and make you watch as Frannie fucks me." She pulled completely out of him, leaving him empty and floundering. "Would you like that?"

The images _that_ were evoked behind the blindfold sent Ren's brain stuttering off to find some shred of control. She would not be pleased if he orgasmed without her permission. He nodded desperately against Francesca, rubbing his lips against her clit, making her shudder and cry out against him. "Yes, please, sir, _please_."

Inspector Thatcher pushed in, fast and steady; Ren's back arched into a taut curve in reaction. He felt his orgasm building in the tension in his body, in the way his toes curled and his hands fisted involuntarily. Gasping, he tried to push back against Inspector Thatcher, trying to show her how much he wanted her to make him come. "Please, sir—"

"Do you want to come, Turnbull?" she asked breathlessly, managing to continue the relentless pounding. Ren was sure that she was on the verge of her own orgasm, greatly aroused by his desperation and the friction of her cock against her clit. "Answer me." Her voice was sharp.

"Yes, sir." He was trembling, shaky-voiced and sweating. "_Please_, sir." He went back to using his mouth on Francesca, ignoring the way she twisted under him, thighs trembling next to his head. Inspector Thatcher froze for a long beat, shivering against the sweaty skin of his back before continuing to hammer into him.

Francesca reached down and with two fingers, spread herself open for him, letting him taste her fully as she arched and spasmed again.

"Oh, you _are_ a good boy," Inspector Thatcher drawled.

Ren whimpered as she brought her hand around to stroke his cock in time with her thrusts, while Francesca whispered an erotic litany of what she was going to do to him _spank you, put a cock ring on you so you can't come until I want you to, ride your cock while Meg sits on your face, fuck you so hard you won't be able to sit down for a week_—

"Come for us, Turnbull."

He tried to cry out, but there was no breath left in his body as he came, a lightning bolt of bliss convulsing him. It washed over and through him, pushed him high on the crest of a wave of pleasure-pain before dropping him down into a trembling lassitude, barely aware of Francesca crooning wordlessly to him as she ran her fingers through his sweat-wet hair, pulling off the blindfold. He didn't notice Inspector Thatcher had untied his wrists, rubbing the circulation back into his hands. She pressed against him, hugging him, gently murmuring to him, "Oh, Rennie, you did so well."

They drew him up on shaky legs and led him to the Queen's Bedroom, and he could only smile dreamily as they petted him, falling into an exhausted sleep.

-fin-


End file.
